The Impossible Year
by courtney-in-the-tardis
Summary: Instead of starting his life over, Alec Hardy has given up. When a new lease on life isn't what he expected, how will Daisy save her father from himself? Set after the events of the Broadchurch series 2 finale, so, major spoiler warning!
1. A Rainy Friday

**A/N:** Hey guys! So, I had another Broadchurch story up, three chapters of it actually, and decided to take it down to make way for this story. It is inspired by the song Impossible Year from Panic! At the Disco's new album Death of a Bachelor. It's not a song fic but the song did put me in a mind space to write this story. Of course I don't own Broadchurch or Panic! At the Disco, but a girl can dream, right?

It was a rainy day in Harper, not that it did much else but rain in the tiny town, but the weather today was especially harsh. It was days like today that made Daisy Hardy wish that she had been better prepared. It was a short distance from where her friends had dropped her off and her dad's flat but it was enough to get her soaked from head to toe. She shivered as the wet, cold material of her uniform clung to her skin and she quickened her pace to get out of the rain. It was her weekend to stay at her father's and she wasn't exactly enthused.

It's not that she didn't love her father, quite the opposite, it was just that she knew what awaited her when she walked up those stairs and through that door. The change in him had been so gradual that it had taken her longer than she was proud of to notice it. He'd never been a social butterfly, far from it, but before life had taken a bitter turn on him he at least left the house more than two or three times a week. When Daisy was a girl he had worked a lot, and when he wasn't at work he was taking her to the park or having a pint with some of his mates on the force. Now, she was lucky if she got him to leave the flat for groceries.

She trudged up the stairs and she could hear the squish of her socks as she did so. The sound made her cringe. She silently prayed that the contents of her duffle bag hadn't been soaked through; she wanted dry, warm clothes more than anything. When she finally made it to the front door of her dad's flat she hesitated before fishing her key out of her pocket and turning the knob. When she entered the threshold she could see that he still hadn't unpacked the boxes he promised he would unpack when he moved in a year ago. She chalked it up to him becoming accustomed to living out of a hotel for so long but the problem was getting out of hand.

She entered the living area to find it vacant. When he wasn't sitting in the huge, cushiony chair in the living room he was sleeping. He did that a lot nowadays. When he had first moved to Harper, which was located halfway between Broadchurch and Sandbrook, he had, had a more cheerful demeanor. He seemed to be high on the thought of making a fresh start but as the year drug on she saw that enthusiasm die more and more every day. The beard he had shaved off had grown back even fuller than before. His suits, which he had begun ironing to crisp perfection, became wrinkled from lack of caring. His occasional meetup with his old friends from the Sandbrook force had stopped as soon as they started. His teaching job in Sandbrook was hanging by a string because he couldn't be bothered to put effort into it. And his smile, which he usually reserved for her, had recently stopped appearing.

She understood that he was going through some heavy things; she was sympathetic to it. But, she felt that there was only so much of his self-destruction that she could stand. He claimed that his nightmares had stopped but she knew he was lying. She could hear muffled screams during the night. Sometimes he called her name, but mostly it was a mix of Danny, Pippa, and Ellie Miller. It was during this impossible year that she had transformed from Alec Hardy's daughter to his minder. She supposed she could tell her mother about how she was feeling, her fears for her father, but she knew that would most likely result in her time with him being restricted.

She quietly opened the door to his room and saw a long, slim figure bunched up under the blankets on the bed. She glanced down at her watch and wondered if he'd taken out the time to eat today; she assumed not. Tiptoeing to his side she sat down on the edge of the bed and shook his shoulders slightly. He mumbled something she couldn't quite catch and so she nudged him again.

She nearly fell off the bed when he shot up stick straight, gasping for air and struggling to focus on the world around him. His breathing came out in laborious pants and he seemed to be clutching his heart as though the pacemaker was no longer working. The thought terrified her but she calmed when she saw that he too was calming down. They locked eyes then and he looked so afraid; so much younger than he actually was. It was moments like this when she felt like the parent instead of the child. It was an odd feeling to experience because her father was always so in control of his feelings; she'd never seen him so vulnerable. This wasn't him.

"Daisy," he gasped slightly, "when did you get here?"

"Just got here," she reassured him and patted his arm.

He looked down at the watch on his left wrist and cursed, "I'm sorry, darlin'. I should have been awake when you got here. I thought I set an-"

She interrupted him, "It's not a problem dad, promise."

He frowned before studying her up and down, "You're soaked. Is it raining that hard?"

"Yeah. Surprised you didn't hear it. Weather's right shit today."

"Daisy," he said in a warning tone.

"Shit isn't swearing, dad."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Fine, I'll mind my tongue. Happy?"

"Always," he said rather unconvincingly.

"Have you eaten today?"

"Yeah," his tone was again, unconvincing, "had a bit of a salad."

"Uh huh," she answered.

"I did!" he defended.

"I didn't say you didn't," she interjected, "it's nearing six, do you wanna go out to dinner?"

He actually looked as if he were considering it but she knew he was doing a dance. He'd pretend to think about it, find a reason not to leave the flat, and then suggest that they get take away or cook something.

"Not tonight, Daze. The weather isn't the best. Wouldn't want you to have to go out in it again and get sick."

"Sure," she responded weakly.

"Take away or see what I have in the cupboards?"

"I'll make something," she said, getting up, "I wouldn't want someone to come out in this weather just to bring us food we could make ourselves."

He nodded and went to get up, "I'll help ya."

She looked at his face and noted the heavy bags under his eyes. He slept a lot but she suspected that most of it wasn't spent dreaming peacefully. He looked so tired. She suddenly felt guilty for wanting to usher him out of bed and into the cold world.

"Actually, you just lay down for a bit longer, dad. You look exhausted. I'll fix something and wake you when it's ready."

"Are you sure?"

She smiled at him and nodded.

"Alright, but we'll go out tomorrow night. I promise."

She walked out of his bedroom and closed the door behind her.

"No we won't," she whispered to herself before heading into the kitchen to make them dinner.


	2. Not So According to Plan

Life was supposed to be different now, at least, that's what he had told himself. Mended heart, new life, it was a given; except life doesn't always turn out the way you plan. Alec Hardy learned that the hard way. But honestly, what had he really expected?

Surviving the pacemaker surgery had given Alec a recharge on life. It gave him the opportunity to feel anger again; proper anger. He reveled in it. He was high on the possibility of life when he had lived in death for so long. But that's the thing about death, once it sticks its claws in you, you can't just briskly walk away from it.

Moving to Harper was Alec's first step in beginning a new life. It had started promising enough, but it soon lost its appeal and charm. He'd began driving again but quickly tired of the mundane activity. He still felt out of place behind the wheel of a car even though his doctor had cleared him completely. He lived just twenty minutes outside of Sandbrook and for some reason had accepted the teaching position that Tess had pulled some strings to get him. He had hated it from the beginning but put up walls and walls of denial in the pursuit of living a happier life.

Next on Alec's journey was working on his appearance. He'd never really noticed how out of hand his facial hair had gotten. When he was married to Tess she had detested scruff so he had kept himself clean shaven. The beard represented so much to him. He lost control of it just like he had lost control of his life. He took a razor to it without second thought. His suits, which had become wrinkled because of his lack of caring, soon became well pressed and crisp. He was finally getting himself together.

Then, as the months went on, it all changed. The scruff started growing back and he didn't shave it. The suits became less polished and he wore them regardless. The chipper attitude he had tried to adopt was reduced to grump before finally resulting in a cold indifference. Daisy was the only person who's presence didn't exhaust him. His bed felt more inviting and leaving his flat for any reason seemed pointless. His nightmares had returned.

When Daisy had entered his room and awoken him he had been dreaming about Danny Latimer. He stood at the cliffs at Broadchurch and Ellie Miller had been standing with him. They stood hand in hand and smiled at him ruefully. He didn't step forward to stop them because he knew it wouldn't save them. He could feel his chest tighten and the air grow thinner and he knew he was dreaming; the fact didn't comfort him.

He could see the fear in Daisy's eyes as he gasped for air and got his bearings. He hated that she feared for him. He hated even more that she had become some sort of carer for him but he just couldn't muster the strength to pick himself back up again. He was sure that if Tess were aware of his current condition she would pluck Daisy from him in a heartbeat and it made him want to sob. He couldn't lose her; not again.

He clutched his dressing gown tightly around him as he shuffled from his bedroom to sit in the living area. He shivered at the cold the rain was bringing in and he dreamed of being someplace warmer. Sitting in his plushy chair he picked up a mystery novel he had been reading and turned it over in his hand. The characters had been alright but the ending had been too predictable.

"Look who's up," came Daisy's voice from the doorway. Her voice had startled him slightly as he was entranced in his own thoughts. He studied her for a moment and allowed himself to smile as she brought her hands to her hips impatiently. She looked so much like him when she did that.

"Dad, you're staring," she pointed out.

The smile dropped, "Sorry."

She shook her head and smiled at him, "Dinner's ready when you are."

His stomach growled but he felt no real desire to eat, "I'll just go wash up."

As he scrubbed his hands he took the time to look at his reflection in the mirror. He lifted a hand lightly to the side of his face and rubbed the heavy beard that rested there. He didn't want to feel like this, so hopeless and lost, but he didn't know what to do about it. Surely he should go see a therapist; but he knew he never would. He breathed heavily in an attempt to calm himself and removed his mobile from his pocket. No missed calls, no texts, and no voicemails. He wasn't surprised.

The only people that ever contacted him were Daisy and Tess. He hadn't made any new friends in Harper and it he were being honest he didn't want to. He'd convinced himself that he was better off alone. But deep down, he knew that, that wasn't true.

He longed to hear something, anything, from Miller. He just wanted to know that she was okay and that her boys were okay. Their friendship may not have been traditional but it was a friendship nonetheless. She had been someone to cling to in the dark because she understood the darkness and now she was just gone. He knew he could have always stayed in Broadchurch and continued his life there but he feared she wouldn't have wanted that so he left. She didn't need any more reminders of how her life had went to shit.

Were the townspeople treating her kindly or was she still an outsider? How was Tom adjusting to school? Had Fred started talking yet? He suspected he'd never find out. His thumb hovered over her contact name in his mobile and he wanted very much to press it but knew he didn't have the courage to. She was always the brave one.

"Dad, are you alright?" he could hear Daisy's voice from the other room.

"Yeah," he said in return and put his phone back in his pocket, "I'm always alright," he added.

He really, really wanted to be.


	3. A Helping Hand

A/N: Thanks again for the continued support! :)

Going to the market was one of Daisy's favorite things to do in Harper. It was located not far from her dad's flat and always contained the freshest looking produce that she had ever seen. It was a cool morning but not so cold that it was unbearable so Daisy threw on a jumper and headed out the door. Living with a workaholic mother the past few years had forced Daisy into the role of chef in their house; a role that had become quite a hobby. In fact, she had recently decided that she wanted to attend culinary school.

When she arrived at the stands she saw the little old man who ran the market smile at her. She had gotten to know Mr. Truman fairly well over the past year. He was a widower with no children and he had started his produce market with his older brother, who was now deceased, when they were very young men. There's something about an older person, a presence they have. Not every elderly person is pleasant but majority have a kindness about them; almost an innocence. Daisy often wondered if Mr. Truman had been as kind hearted when he was younger.

"Mornin', Miss Daisy," he greeted in a soft voice, "back again I see. Has it been two weeks already?"

"It has. Feels like forever," she responded.

"How's that father of yours? Still having trouble getting him to go places?"

She looked around as though she were afraid someone were eavesdropping, "He's about the same. I'm really starting to worry."

He gave her a sympathetic look, "Have you talked to your mother about it?"

She shook her head fiercely, "Nah, can't do that. She'd stop me from seeing him."

He frowned, "She's gonna find out eventually."

Her frown mirrored his, "That's what I'm afraid of."

He walked alongside her as she selected tomatoes and oregano for the pasta she was going to make that night. They did this every Saturday that she stayed in Harper. She'd never really known her dad's dad so Mr. Truman was sort of the grandfather she'd never had. She suspected he felt the same about her as he had never had any children to produce grandchildren.

"I wish I knew what to tell you, Miss Daisy," he added as he placed her items in a sack, "I can't do anything to change his mental health."

"I know," she said.

"Though I do think you should talk to him about your concerns. It may not be a conversation he wants to have but he's been through too much to give up now."

"I just don't know what I would say to him. I'm not good at this sort of thing. I can take care of him just fine, but I can't talk to him."

With a gentle look he handed her sack of purchases to her, "Then find someone who can."

Storm clouds gathered as she started her journey back to her father's flat and she began walking at a quicker pace. The air chilled around her and she clutched her jumper closer to herself. Mr. Truman's advice lingered in her mind as she made the short trek. She knew he was right, something had to be done. Her father was literally sleeping his life away and growing thinner every day. She was certain that the only time he ate was under her watch. But the question was, how would she convince him to seek help?

She couldn't do it on her own, she knew that for certain. Who could she turn to? Who could she trust? Her mind turned over names and faces of people that she knew and none of them fit the bill. As she saw her destination get closer she began to feel panicky. She'd walked all the way from the market and she still hadn't thought of a single person that could help her.

Her dad didn't really care for anyone. He never even got too close to any of his old mates on the force. If it weren't for her mother still working with them she wouldn't even know any of their names. Her father had been absent from her life for two years and she didn't know much about where he was or what he was doing until the job was over. He'd told her how he hated the town and the people. His main contact was with a woman that Daisy had never met and he'd almost died out of his own stubbornness.

Then suddenly an idea hit her as though she had been struck by lightning. Looking up to make sure she hadn't actually been hit by lighting because of the storm brewing she ran as fast as she could back to the flat. Dashing up the stairs and turning the key she happily found that her dad had fallen asleep in his chair with crap telly playing in the background. As quietly as possible she found his Blackberry and quickly transferred information from his phone to hers. Checking to make sure he was still asleep she put his mobile back and slipped into the kitchen to make them lunch.

* * *

Later that day Daisy and her father had lunch at the kitchen table. She was smiling at him keenly and he was eyeing her suspiciously. It was as if they were in a battle to see who would break the silence first. Alec lost.

"Why are you lookin' at me like that?"

She pulled a face and shrugged, "Dunno what you mean."

"You're all kind of smiley….do you want something?"

"What? I'm not allowed to smile at you now, am I?"

"I didn't say that," he responded airily.

"It's just, Monday's a professional day at school."

"Aye," he answered, obviously not knowing where she was going with this.

"Mum said she would pick me up Monday evening, after dinner time."

"Okay?"

"I was wondering, could I have a friend over for dinner? She's coming in from out of town and I told her you probably wouldn't mind."

He didn't say anything at first but finally nodded his head in consent, "Yeah, that'll be alright, I guess."

Daisy fished her phone from her pocket and quickly typed before pressing send.

"Daisy, what did I say about the mobile while we're eating?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, "just talking to mum."

At this moment she was very glad that she had a somewhat decent poker face. She hated lying to her dad but it was for his own good. She was also quite grateful that he couldn't see who she was actually texting. She shoveled a forkful of salad into her mouth before he could ask her anymore questions and prayed that he wouldn't hate her once Monday came.

* * *

 _Text to: Ellie Miller_

 _Hey, I know we've never met but I'm Alec Hardy's daughter, Daisy. Look, I wouldn't bother you if I didn't think it was serious but dad needs your help. It's not his heart, he's not dying or anything, but he's not alright. I need someone to help me talk some sense into him. If I can arrange it, could you come round for dinner Monday? It would mean the world to me if you said yes._

 _-Daisy_

 _Text to: Daisy Hardy_

 _Time and address?_

 _-Ellie Miller_


End file.
